Darcy's Diary (5 page)

‘It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill,' she said.

‘That will not do for a compliment to Darcy,' broke in Bingley, ‘because he does
not
write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do you not, Darcy?'

‘My style of writing is very different from yours,' I agreed.

‘My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them, by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents,' said Bingley.

‘Your humility must disarm reproof,' said Elizabeth, laying her needlework aside.

‘Nothing is more deceitful than the appearance of humility,' I said, laughing at Bingley's comments, but underneath I was conscious of a slight irritation that she was praising him. ‘It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast.'

‘And which of the two do you call
my
little recent piece of modesty?' asked Bingley.

‘The indirect boast,' I said with a smile. ‘The power of doing anything with quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of performance. When you told Mrs Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of compliment to yourself, but I am by no means convinced. If, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, “Bingley, you had better stay till next
week,” you would probably do it.'

‘You have only proved by this that Mr Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself,' said Elizabeth with a laugh.

‘I am exceedingly gratified by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper,' said Bingley merrily.

I smiled, but I was not so gratified, though why this should be I do not know. I am sure I like Bingley very well, and I am always pleased when other people value him, too.

‘But Darcy would think the better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could!' he added.

‘Would Mr Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?' asked Elizabeth playfully.

‘Upon my word, I cannot explain the matter. Darcy must speak for himself.'

I laid down my quill, all thoughts of my letter forgotten.

‘You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged,' I said with a smile.

‘To yield readily to the
persuasion
of a friend is no merit with you,' said Elizabeth.

Despite myself, I was drawn into her banter.

‘To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either,' I returned.

‘You appear to me, Mr Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection.'

I saw Caroline looking horrified at our exchange, but I was enjoying Elizabeth's stimulating conversation.

‘Will it not be advisable to arrange the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties before we decide?' I asked her.

‘By all means,' cried Bingley. ‘Let us have all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size, for I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do.'

I smiled, but I was offended nonetheless. I feared there was a grain of truth in what Bingley said, and I did not want Elizabeth to know it.

Elizabeth looked as though she would like to laugh, but did not. I hope she is not afraid of me. But no. If she was afraid of me, she would not laugh at me so much!

‘I see your design, Bingley,' I said, turning his remark aside. ‘You dislike an argument, and want to silence this.'

‘Perhaps I do,' Bingley admitted.

The liveliness had gone out of the conversation, and an awkwardness prevailed. Elizabeth returned to her needlework, and I returned to my letter. The clock ticked on the mantelpiece. I finished my letter and put it aside. The silence continued.

To break it, I asked the ladies to favour us with some music. Caroline and Louisa sang, and I found my gaze wandering to Elizabeth. She is like no woman I have ever met before. She is not beautiful, and yet I find I would rather look at her face than any other. She is not gracious, and yet her manners please me better than any I have met with. She is not learned, and yet she has an intelligence that makes her a lively debater, and renders her conversation stimulating. It is a long time since I have had to fence with words, indeed I am not sure I have ever done it before, and yet with her I am frequently engaged in a duel of wits.

Caroline began to play a lively Scotch air, and moved by a sudden impulse I said, ‘Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?'

She smiled, but did not answer. I found her silence enigmatic. Is she a sphinx, sent to torment me? She must be, for my thoughts are not usually so poetic.

Instead of disgusting me, however, her silence only inflamed me more, and I repeated my question.

‘Oh,' she said, ‘I heard you before; but could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say ‘Yes,' that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes. I have therefore made up my mind to tell you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all – and now despise me if you dare.'

Did I really seem so perverse to her? I wondered. And yet I could not help smiling at her sally, and her bravery in uttering it.

‘Indeed I do not dare,' I said.

She looked surprised, as though she had expected a cutting retort, and I was glad to have surprised her, the more so because she is forever surprising me.

I find her quite bewitching, and if it were not for the inferiority of her station in life I believe I might be in some danger, for I have never been so captivated by a woman in my life.

It was Caroline's intervention that broke my train of thought and prevented me from saying something I might later have regretted.

‘I hope your sister is not feeling too poorly,' said Caroline. ‘I think I must go up to her room and see how she does.'

‘I will come with you,' said Elizabeth. ‘Poor Jane. I have left her alone too long.'

They went upstairs, and I was left to wonder whether Caroline had turned Elizabeth's attention to her sister deliberately, and to think how close I had come to betraying my feelings.

It was a fine morning, and Caroline and I took a walk in the shrubbery.

‘I wish you very happy in your marriage,' she said as we strolled along the path.

I wish she would leave the subject, but I fear there is little chance of that. She has been teasing me about my supposed marriage for days.

‘I hope, though, that you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue; and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after the officers.'

I smiled, but I was annoyed. She had hit on the very reason I could not pursue my feelings. I could never have Mrs Bennet for a mother-in-law. It would be insupportable. And as for the younger girls, to make them sisters to Georgiana – no, it could not be done.

‘Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?' I asked, not letting her see my irritation, for it would only make her worse.

‘Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not attempt to have it taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?' she said in a droll voice.

I ignored her drollery, and imagined a portrait of Elizabeth hanging at Pemberley. I imagined another portrait hanging next to it, of Elizabeth and myself. The thought was pleasing to me and I smiled.

‘It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be copied,' I mused.

Caroline was not pleased, and I found that I was glad to have vexed her. She was about to reply, when we were met from another walk by Louisa and Elizabeth herself.

Caroline was embarrassed, and well she might be. I, too, was uncomfortable. I did not think Elizabeth had overheard Caroline, but even if she had, it would not have disturbed her. She had not been perturbed when she had heard an uncharitable remark from me at the assembly.

As I looked at her, I was suddenly conscious of the fact that she was a guest in the house. I had been so busy thinking of her in another way that I had forgotten that she was staying with Bingley. I felt an uncomfortable
pang as I realized that she had not met with any warmth or friendship during her stay. To be sure, she had met with politeness to her face, but even politeness had been lacking as soon as her back was turned. I had never felt so out of sympathy with Caroline … or in sympathy with Louisa, for she at least had taken the trouble to ask Elizabeth if she cared for a walk, which I had not. I berated myself for it. I was not averse to admiring her eyes, but I had done little to make her stay at Netherfield more enjoyable.

Louisa's next words undid my charitable feelings towards her, however. Saying: ‘You used us abominably ill in running away without telling us that you were coming out,' she took my free arm and left Elizabeth to stand alone.

I was mortified, and said at once: ‘The walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue.'

But Elizabeth, who was not in the least mortified at being used so ill, merely smiled mischievously and said that we looked so well together the group would be spoilt by a fourth. Then wishing us goodbye she ran off gaily, like a child who suddenly finds herself free of the schoolroom. As I watched her run, I felt my spirits lift. I felt as though I, too, was suddenly free, free of the trammelled dignity of my life, and I longed to run after her.

‘Miss Eliza Bennet behaves as badly as her younger sisters,' said Caroline mockingly.

‘She does not behave as badly as we do, however,' I returned, annoyed. ‘She is a guest in your brother's house, and as such she is entitled to our respect. She should not have to suffer our neglect, nor suffer our abuse the minute her back is turned.'

Caroline looked astonished and then displeased, but my expression was so forbidding that she fell silent. Bingley might complain about my awful expressions, but they have their uses.

I turned back to look at Elizabeth, but she had already passed out of sight. I did not see her again until dinner-time. She disappeared immediately afterwards, to see to her sister, but when Bingley and I joined the ladies in the drawing-room we found her with them.

Caroline's eyes turned to me straight away. I could see that she was apprehensive. I had spoken to her sharply earlier in the day, and had not said a word to her since. I gave her a cool glance and then turned my attention to Miss Bennet, who was well enough to be downstairs, and who was sitting next to her sister.

Bingley was delighted to see that Miss Bennet was feeling better. He fussed around her, making sure the fire was high enough and that she was not in a draught. My expression softened. I could feel it doing so. He was treating her with all the care and attention she deserved, and I was reminded of why I like him so much and am happy to call him a friend. His manners might be so easy-going as to make him a target for anyone who
wishes to sway him, but those same compliant manners make him an agreeable companion and a warm host. It was evident that Elizabeth thought so, too. I felt that, after our sparring, we had found common ground.

Caroline pretended to pay attention to the invalid, but in fact was more interested in my book, which I had taken up when we had decided not to play cards.

‘I declare there is no enjoyment like reading a book!' she said, ignoring her own in favour of mine.

I did not reply. I was out of sympathy with her. Instead, I studiously applied myself to my book; which was a pity, as I would have liked to watch Elizabeth. The firelight playing on her skin was a sight I found mesmerizing.

Discovering that she could not make me talk, Caroline then disturbed her brother with talk of his ball, before taking a turn around the room. She was restless, and longing for attention. I, however, did not give it to her. She had offended me, and I was not ready to forgive her her offence.

‘Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room.'

I could not help myself. I looked up. I saw a look of surprise cross Elizabeth's face, and I wondered if my words to Caroline had affected her behaviour, pricking her conscience about her treatment of her brother's guest. But no such thing. She simply wanted my attention, and she had been clever enough to realize that this was the way to achieve it. Unconsciously, I closed my book.

‘Mr Darcy, will you not join us?' said Caroline.

I declined.

‘There are only two reasons why you would wish to walk together, and my presence would interfere with both,' I said.

My smile was not directed at Caroline, but at Elizabeth.

‘What can you mean?' asked Caroline, amazed. ‘Miss Eliza Bennet, do you know?'

‘Not at all,' was her answer. ‘But depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him, will be to ask nothing about it.'

I felt my blood stir. She was fencing with me, even though she was speaking to Caroline, and I was enjoying the experience.

Caroline, however, could not fence. Caroline could only say: ‘I must know what he means. Come, Mr Darcy, explain yourself.'

‘Very well. You are either in each other's confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.'